


On Nights Like These

by zerodoxical



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, and others too ofc, behold their brilliance, serving some citoita food for myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25628641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerodoxical/pseuds/zerodoxical
Summary: Itaru stays up late (as if it wasn't a typical occurrence) watching a movie for his role study and Citron joins him soon after.
Relationships: Chigasaki Itaru/Citron
Kudos: 32





	On Nights Like These

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for a challenge on Amino!! I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope y'all have fun reading it too!

"Huh."

The gamer mumbled to himself, his chin perched on his right hand and his eyes heavily gazing at the scene unfolding before him. His left hand clutched a sheet of paper (his script for his next role, to be exact), suspended in the air due to his somewhat uncharacteristic focus on the movie he was watching for role study. He was unsurprisingly alone in his room and a digital clock flashed the numbers "23:37" on the right side of his television, a usual occurrence on Friday nights like these, especially now that there’s a show coming up. Most would think of hitting the hay early to get proper rest but Itaru thought nocturnality was necessary for role study (and not to mention, he needed to use up all his LP for an event in one of his beloved mobile games).

This wasn't the first time Tsuzuru recommended all of them movies for them to watch and study from but for some odd reason, he felt…a bit put off. Usually he'd feel neutral on characters and occasionally relate to them or look up to them; he wasn't much of an interesting person himself (at least, that's what he thinks) so characters were always on some type of pedestal. But this was different, he supposed. He yawned and rubbed his eyes for a few seconds, the view in front of him shifting in and out of his vision; a character, to be exact, who remained still behind an enormous pause symbol. Was he...growing bored? Movies aren’t his thing but he always makes sure to enjoy at least a bit of a movie.

"Itaru-san~!"

A familiar voice and a hug from behind snapped him back to reality – he didn't realise he was actually drowning in his thoughts to the point where the sound of his door creaking and Citron "tiptoeing" fell on deaf ears. He planted a quick kiss on his boyfriend's cheek but it was enough to make Itaru grin like an idiot as his cheeks grew scarlet red that could almost illuminate the whole room. Citron then proceeded to sit down beside him on the couch, his movements that of an excited child with a brand new toy. Itaru was partially glad he was here but he was also worried that he’s losing sleep over him. Still, the thought didn’t wipe off the cheeky grin and happy blush on his face.

“Shh, not so loud, Citron. Don’t want grumpy old Sakyo to hear us,” Itaru whispered Citron playfully yet genuinely and Citron only nodded in response, still smiling, his bright smile rivaling that of the sun’s. Thankfully, the room was dark enough to blanket some of that light and prevent Itaru from going blind. Itaru lifted his head, freeing his right hand for it to grab the remote and resume the movie he was watching; but Citron reached for it first and he fiddled with the remote in his hand, leaving an utterly confused Itaru to ponder for a few moments as to why he did that. Citron chuckled and tucked the remote - unsurprisingly or surprisingly, Itaru was unsure - under his butt, the smile on his face larger than life itself. Itaru was stunned and questioned whether his boyfriend was comfortable with a literal remote under his butt until Citron cleared his throat.

“‘Lucas, you can’t leave! The village will be in shambles without you!’”

_Citron already memorised the script?_

Itaru was still stunned; hell, he’s even _more_ stunned at the fact that Citron already memorised the script (at least, that was what he assumed) after a few days the script was initially given. Sure, his enunciation and delivery could be improved but the fact still remained. He couldn’t really consider it an etude, considering they were given scripts already...it’s more of a street act to promote their new play. Room act? Thoughts were spiraling inside his head, both absurd and concrete. Albeit, Itaru cleared his throat and attempted to act along without reading the script that was right in his left hand as to not let his partner down with the fact that _he_ hasn’t memorised it yet. Yet that plan backfired.

“‘I, uh, have to, Boris. I…” he trailed off in a miserable attempt to remember his lines to which Citron frowned - how unsightly. And Itaru didn’t mean that in a “he looks ugly when he doesn’t smile” kind of way but rather, even the mere thought of a less-than-happy Citron made Itaru anxious. If he was being completely honest, Citron is attractive no matter the circumstances; whether he’s daydreaming, his eyes dreamlike and distracted, whether he’s doing something adorably stupid, his eyes full of wonder, whether he’s running around the dorms causing chaos, his childish grin a sight to behold, Citron is quite the handsome fellow. And while the gamer believes you shouldn’t judge a book by his cover (especially he himself is frequently misperceived), he considers himself lucky such a good-looking fellow such as Citron is his boyfriend.

Ah, there he goes again, moving the spotlight away from him.

“Itaru...if you don’t remember your lines, you can just well me so,” Citron genuinely assured Itaru but Itaru could only laugh at his silly little mispronunciation, his cackling ringing through the whole room as if the whole room was laughing along with (or at) him. Citron only let out an oblivious hum, happy that he brought _some_ joy to his beloved boyfriend. With the only source of light streaming from the television and the slight illumination of the moonlight outside their windows, they both glowed and shined brighter than stars in the night sky. Mostly Itaru though, Citron had thunk, especially with such a blessed laugh being music to his ears and a grin that could murder if cuteness could kill a human. It was a special kind of night, even with the familiar howling of the wind outside and the numbers that glowed beside the television.

“Sorry, Citron. I didn’t expect for you to memorise your script that quickly,” Itaru apologised as soon as he finished laughing, his left hand now letting his script drop and land gracefully onto the coffee table in front of them. Citron glanced at the script and made a grab for it as Itaru leaned back into the couch, making himself comfortable once again and closing his eyes to relax and unwind for a bit. Citron’s eyes scanned his lover’s script quite quickly as said lover sighed, whether out of relief or exhaustion, both of them weren't sure. Citron smiled to himself; well, mostly at the parts and dialogue they share in the play. Even though they play as mere friends, there was something intimate to the subtleness in their characters’ relationship. At least, that was what Citron thought.

“Neither did I. Well, I suppose part of the reason is because I wanted to help you out with your role study, hehe. And I _kind of_ wanted to impress you…” he trailed off, seemingly forgetting to keep the last sentence to himself and instead uttered it out loud. At the realisation, his cheeks turned pink - the cute shade you see on cherry blossoms and in the spring season - as he slapped both of his hands to his mouth in a feeble attempt to shut himself up. Luckily enough, his embarrassment was somewhat spared because Itaru was resting his eyes and the only thing he could see was darkness. Still, he was positive Itaru heard what he had said. It was uncharacteristic of him; doing something to impress somebody, when he's been doing the opposite his entire life. But Itaru was always an exception. He always was.

“You...wanted to impress me?” Itaru muttered at first to himself but his voice raised the longer he spoke and thought. All his life, _he_ was doing the impressing, to the point where he had to lie to be in the favour of his peers. To be liked and respected by someone to the point where they’d go to such lengths for you, especially a lover...it was refreshing. He really liked it. He liked it so damn much. But unlike Citron, he made sure he didn’t admit it aloud. His eyes flew open at the ticklish warmth he felt spreading in his chest; then he remembered that it was love. Tenderness. That feeling you experience with the ones you love, even if it's just yourself. He really liked that too. No, he _loved_ that. And he tried his best to let that feeling stay for a little while, enough to last the whole night at the very least.

“...Yes,” Citron confessed ultimately and Itaru couldn’t control the huge grin that spread across his face. That warmth was spreading even more then, which was what he had hoped for. The room might as well glow from all the heat he gathered inside of his little heart, heat that rivaled the very sun. Which was ironic, because the ray of sunshine here was Citron, not him. But he wasn’t complaining. He wanted to share that warmth, that heat, with Citron; no one should miss out on such a feeling, especially his beloved. He raised his head to look at Citron. He was still blushing, fortunately enough - or rather _un_ fortunately enough, because Itaru felt like combusting into flames at the sight. In a positive light of course, in spite of the scene that would unfold if it were to come to fruition.

“That’s cute. C’mere,” Itaru beckoned and Citron gladly inched closer, Itaru’s arms wrapping around him and blanketing him in a warm hug. Their embrace reminded of the warm winter days where they would just cuddle in front of the fireplace in the living room (to the others’ dismay and joy, depending on the person) as abandoned mugs of hot chocolate turn lukewarm; days where Citron feels bolder than usual and Itaru bashful, and rightfully so. But he could never refuse any form of invitation from his lover, and that includes agreeing to embarrass himself with his beloved by displaying affection in front of everyone. To call it a public would be less than accurate but it isn’t exactly secret either.

“Mmm…” Itaru could hear Citron purr out of satisfaction and comfort, matching with the catlike soft smile on his lover's face and the pure relief his shut eyes seemed to express. Itaru felt his grin grow wider and wider by the second, ever so elated that they're so intimately close, and in an actual private area at that. Plus, he could finally reach for the remote silly old Citron hid underneath his bottom, now that Citron was leaning far into him. Except Citron's weight made it difficult for his arm to move and grab the remote in the first place. Still, he made an effort to resume his role study, albeit in much more silence as he doesn't want to accidentally wake up his already asleep boyfriend.

Instead of the remote, he made a grab for his script first and scanned it for a bit, just as Citron had done, and then let it rest on the coffee table. Everything on the table seemed to glow, most likely because of the light streaming down from the television yet at the time, all those little tchotchkes were like treasures pirates would dream of obtaining; gold, jewelry, money, all that jazz, but Itaru unashamedly admitted to himself that there's no treasure worth more than what he has with his beloved, as cheesy as it sounds. Well, he supposed the family he found here at Mankai Company is also a treasure worth more than a billion jewels.

Strangely enough, he felt like some sort of phantom thief or pirate himself. All these treasures, so priceless yet worth more than anything in the world, the dorms a treasure trove of secrets and his room one of the many vaults that lie within. And their stage, their theater, the ship that brings them to such fortune. Or his room could be the mansion of a famed phantom, mischievous yet charming and merely a shadow of what’s in between truth and lie; a mystery, an enigma, like what he had seen Citron as before they opened everything up and laid themselves bare. Then it hit him.

This was his role study. A figure of gray morality, ones with goals they themself are unsure of. A phantom thief and a crew of pirates have their own goals, but this character he was studying...it reminded Itaru of himself. Maybe that was that unsettling feeling he felt before Citron came crashing in. A character so reminiscent of himself, he disliked seeing it being portrayed on screen for everyone to watch - for the public to comment on, for entertainment of many eyes, for almost everything. It set his teeth on edge; on stage it was completely fine because he’s not playing _himself_ on stage, obviously and people were watching a _completely different person_ living their life. But to be his true self _and_ be seen by others? It made him feel anxious and nervous.

He grabbed his script again with his free hand and freed his right hand from under Citron’s rising and falling chest atop him to grasp for the remote. Favourably enough, Citron was a _very_ heavy sleeper and Itaru managed to retrieve the remote (and Itaru thanked God that Citron didn’t, well, expel gas or the like). He continued watching the movie Tsuzuru lent as he read the script along. Despite his slight discomfort, he had devoted himself to the stage and to Citron so he had no choice but to push through it. All he had to do was study and memorise his lines; hell, maybe he should slack off on the study part, considering the main character of the movie was already so reminiscent of himself.

“Challenge accepted.”


End file.
